


Romance in the Work Place

by androgynousclintbarton



Category: Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dom Phil Coulson, M/M, Sam Wilson/Steve Rogers (Background), Sub Clint Barton, Thor/Jane Foster (Mentioned) - Freeform, Tony Stark/Pepper Potts (Mentioned) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-06 04:27:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5402945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/androgynousclintbarton/pseuds/androgynousclintbarton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Avengers find themselves with a brand new Handler, Clint Barton finds himself with a huge Crush and an even bigger problem. Take a risk and try dating the man with his track record, or back off and let the team keep a handler who actually works well with them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Handler

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chocobith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocobith/gifts).



                The living room of Stark Tower was buzzing with Chatter from all of the Avengers, and Clint was beginning to seriously consider taking out his hearing aids. If Stark and Thor got any louder in their detailed conversation about whose girlfriend was better, it might be his only option unless he wanted to know way too much about Pepper and Jane. At least there was one upside to being deaf.

                Personally, Clint didn’t understand the point of their argument. Jane had a sweet, supportive and energetic boyfriend. Pepper had…well Pepper had Tony. If anything, Pepper won by default. She put up with Tony every day, and still somehow managed to avoid killing him, while still staying in love with him.

                “Oh no, you have your thinking face on.” Tearing his eyes away from where Rhodey was attempting to show off in front of Steve, he glared up at Sam as the other man bent over the back of the couch. The other man just countered his glare with a ridiculous smirk. “Natasha! Get the water, I think I see some smoke coming from out of his ears!”

                “If I tried to put out every fire he started by thinking, the world would run out of water,” Dismissed the red head, flipping the page in her book as she spoke. She didn’t even bother to look at either of them, just ignored them as if they were children arguing in the backseat of a car.

                “I hate you both,” stated Clint, though there wasn’t any actual venom in his words.

                “You would have shot us already if that was true,” Countered Sam, still smirking.

                “Fury say’s I’m not allowed,” grumbled Clint with an exaggerated pout.

                Sam burst into laughter at that, shaking his head a bit.

“And you actually listen to him?”

                “Some of us like to stay alive when possible,” pointed out Clint.

                “And that is a very smart thing to do.” Everyone shot up from their spots as Fury’s voice cut through the room, followed by the man himself. Well, except for Natasha, but she never seemed surprised by anything.

                “Fury! Our favorite neighbourhood watch dog!” exclaimed Tony with an exaggerated motion. Almost immediately, Clint shot a glare at the billionaire, one he knew was mimicked by Natasha. Tony flinched a little, waving his hands around slightly as he gestured between them “Whoa, down puppies.”

                With a roll of his eyes, Steve turned to face Fury. Almost automatically, his body fell into a normal military stance he took on whenever someone of high command entered the room. “Look, sir. If this is about the last hander we had…” He was cut off when Fury waved a dismissive hand at him.

“Agent Thompson has been reassigned to our arctic post to think over his comments about Agent Romanoff and Colonel Rhodes,” explained Fury dismissively. “He won’t be an issue anymore, though, I doubt he could have been one after the above parties broke almost every bone in his right arm”

                “We…we don’t have an arctic post,” pointed out Clint wearily, though he enjoyed the look of triumph on Natasha’s face.

                “As far as you know, Agent Barton,” reminded Fury calmly. He couldn’t help but smirk at the idea of the jerk freezing his balls off in the arctic “That was, of course, if Natasha didn’t find him first. “I’m simply here to introduce you to your new handler.”

                “And steal some of Clint’s cookies” accused Sam with a smirk.

                “I’ll take care of that later.” Clint snickered at his boss’ comment, letting his eyes move towards the door as another man, about the same height as himself, walked i9nto the room in a plain black suit. His face was blank, but pretty blue eyes pulled Clint’s attention further onto the man. Said eyes scanned the room with a familiar ease, assessing all of the hero’s that were scattered across the space. They lingered on Steve momentarily, a look of wonder and awe crossing his face before he resumed his scan of the room.

                “Agent Coulson?” Clint’s eyes snapped over to Natasha, a look of betrayal on his face as he tried to recall if she had ever mentioned Agent Gorgeous Eyes to him before.

                “Director Fury figured it was time to bring in someone who could handle your antics Agent Romanoff.” The smooth voice made Clint want to melt into the couch and stay there forever, or as long as he was allowed to ogle the new handler and his gorgeous…well, everything at this point.

                “Hey Clint,” Whispered Sam, nudging his shoulder as he leaned close enough so only Clint could hear him. “You might want to…you know.” Clint followed the direction in which Sam was subtly pointing, his face going ridiculously red when he noticed the outline in his sweat pants.

                “Oh god,” he groaned, rubbing a hand over his face and attempting to melt away into oblivion instead of risking more embarrassment as Agent Coulson began making introductions to everyone individually.

 


	2. Dogs

  
    “Lucky!” shouted Clint as he rounded the corner of the hallway, chasing his dog. Well, he chased Lucky right up until he squeezed between Tony and Rhodey and bolted into the room beside them just before the door closed. “Lucky no!”

                Skidding to a stop in front of Tony, he winced as the billionaire levelled him with a glare.

                “Well…” sighed Rhodey, eyeing the door that Lucky had gone through. “It was nice knowing you Clint. You’re officially a dead man walking”

                “Listen, Tony…” started Clint, trying to think of a way to smooth this over.”

                “I told you not to bring that monster back after the near Hulk incident!” snapped Tony, his glare intensifying.

                “Kate went out of town and my neighbour took her kids to a museum,” explained Clint, even knowing it was probably futile. “If we didn’t have a meeting in an hour, neither of us would be here”

                “It’s going to destroy everything!” exclaimed Tony unhappily, his arms flailing around slightly.

                “Maybe he’ll be kind enough to destroy that weapon you didn’t want Rhodey to see,” suggested Clint, going for the second best tactic when dealing with Stark when attempts at reasoning failed: Distraction.

                “What!?” shouted Rhodey, spinning on Tony. Clint knew he was going to pay for this later, but the look of horror on Rhodey’s face was totally worth any shit Stark gave him.

                “Pooky bear, don’t listen to him,” stated Tony, who immediately went from complaining at Clint to attempting to appease his best friend.

                Clint easily swerved around the pair as their attention moved off him and made a bee line for the room that Lucky had vanished into. He really hoped Lucky hadn’t actually destroyed anything. He would never hear Tony shut up about it if his dog did damage something.

                “Knock Knock!” called Clint, his knuckles rapping against the door even as he verbalized the action. “Sorry to bother you, I seem to have misplaced a dog in…” A loud crash cut him off, and he winced at the following sounds of protest, anger and finally triumph before the door slide open. Clint bit down on his lower lip to stifle a groan as he was presented with a dishevelled Agent Coulson. Of course, Lucky had to bolt into the room of the one person Clint really didn’t want to get on the wrong side of.

                Coulson’s tie was pulled out of its usual place, clearly having been only half way tied when he was so rudely interrupted. Steel blue eyes took a moment to size Clint up while a free hand attempted to smooth out his unkempt hair.

                “I believe this is yours?” He held out his right hand with Lucky’s leash in it, waiting patiently for Clint to take it.

                “He…” a look of shock appeared on Clint’s facer when he saw Lucky sitting on the floor beside Coulson as if he hadn’t just interrupted the man. “i…uh, sorry.” Taking the leash from Coulson, he wrapped it around his hand carefully and closed his fist tightly around it.

                “Just keep him out of my room. This place is far from being dog friendly,” Stated Coulson as if he were actually concerned for Lucky and not his own things. Clint gave the man a short nod in return and turned to walk away, hopefully somewhere he could quietly die of embarrassment. “And, Agent Barton?” A smile pulled at his lips when he heard the soft tone in Coulson’s voice, glancing back at the man in question. “Try to bring some brownies to the meeting. If I can’t steal Director Fury’s from the break room I need a decent substitution”

                “I’ll do my best, sir,” agreed Clint, giving the older man a half assed salute before turning back down the hallway and walking past Tony and Rhodey.

                “I’m going to murder you,” hissed Tony as Clint passed by, Rhodey continuing to lecture the billionaire.

“Before or after makeup sex?” Asked Clint, smirking a bit. Seeing Tony in trouble was always amusing.

                Tony’s eyes darted between Clint and Rhodey momentarily, clearly weighing his options.

“After. Definitely after”

                “Tony!” Rhodey practically shrieked in protest, and Clint couldn’t help but laugh as he walked away from them.

 


	3. Brownies

 

                Clint smirked as Coulson used the pen in his hand to smack Natasha’s hand away from the last brownie he’d made. The man didn’t bother to stop talking as he did so nor did the cadence of his voice change.

“I think he wants it,” muttered Sam, smirking a bit at the ex-assassin. The look Natasha shot at Sam in return was priceless. The whole thing was amusing, and Clint had to admit he was starting to enjoy Coulson’s presence a lot more than any of their other handlers. Of course, the man’s good looks didn’t hurt that opinion at all. The playful smirk that currently tugged at the older man’s lips was definitely worth hearing Natasha’s future revenge plans.

                “Zip it, Wilson,” ordered Natasha with a huff “Maybe if you convinced your boyfriend to stop eating them all, I would have gotten more than one out of fifty and Coulson would have five to himself still.”

                “Thor helped devour them all,” PROTESTED Sam, slapping Clint in the arm when he snorted.

                Balancing his chin on one of his hands, Clint continued to act as if he was listening to the debrief. Instead though, he focused on the silky smooth sound of Agent Coulson’s voice walking them through some of the latest PR scandals and how they (Mostly Tony) were going to deal with them (Translation: Steve, Pepper or Rhodey was going to drag Tony somewhere to make a speech).

                “Clint.” Someone snapped their fingers in front of his face suddenly, snapping him out of his thoughts. Blinking up, he found Natasha standing over him and the room mostly empty except for them and Agent Coulson, who appeared to be packing up. “Come on dummy, we’re not in trouble this time. Let’s go spare”

                “But I don’t want to get my ass kicked today, Tasha,” whined Clint in protest, attempting to burrow further into his chair.

                “Too bad, I’m sure Coulson would love to see Video footage of you with your shirt off, all sweaty and…” remarked Natasha, smirking in a way that said she knew his number.

                Immediately, he shot to his feet, palms smacking the surface of the table as he rapidly stood. “You know, sparring doesn’t sound like a bad idea after all.”

                “I thought you would see it my way,” stated Natasha, her triumphant smirk growing wider.

                Glancing over at their hander, Clint smirked when he saw the older man leaning back against the other end of the table and taking a bite out of his brownie with a look of pure bliss. Clint might not be as good as Fury when it came to baking, or most things really, but this was definitely a win in his book.

               


	4. Anger

  
                With a loud crash, the punching bag that Clint had been taking his anger out on slammed to the ground and nearly took out his feet in the process. It was enough to startle Clint back into the present. The hell? He was strong, but he wasn’t that strong. Taking a punching bag down with a hit was Steve’s thing, not his. Glancing around the room, he immediately spotted the only other party in the room; Agent Coulson stood calmly behind Clint, hands tucked in his pocket as if nothing odd had just happened. Immediately, Clint’s eyes moved straight from Coulson to the wall directly across the room. And there, embedded in to plaster, was a throwing knife. Right at the level the ropes holding the bag would have been at. Son of a bitch.

                “What the hell Coulson!?”

                “If you’re going to have an internal hissy fit over a mission gone wrong, at least talk it out while you throw punches,” stated Coulson calmly, taking a few steps closer but ultimately remaining out of reach. Those deep blue eyes scanned his body quickly, lingering on Clint’s bloody knuckles and assessing the damage before he reached up and pulled his tie off in one solid movement.

“W…what are you doing?” asked Clint, blinking in shock as the tie was discarded to the side, followed by Coulson’s suit jacket.

                What does it look like?” countered Coulson, giving Clint a raised eye brow that said; I know you aren’t stupid, so don’t act like it.

                Clint’s mouth went dry as Coulson rolled up his sleeves, revealing forearms and muscles Clint hadn’t known where there. If this kept up, he was definitely going to be spilling his guts about his growing crush on the older man. It had only been getting worse over the past few months and he was almost at his breaking point as it was. “If you want to punch something, take a swing at me”

                “What’s the catch?” asked Clint immediately, knowing there was one. Natasha had messed with him enough times that he knew something had to be up.

                “If you land any hit’s, you have to explain why you’re upset,” stated Coulson, stepping up once his sleeves were rolled back.

                “The answer ‘the mission’ doesn’t work for you?” attempted Clint, hoping it would count for more than it probably did.

                “Not when it’s only a partial answer, it doesn’t,” explained Coulson simply, his tone calm and gaze level as his eyes met Clint’s. “I want the truth.”

                “It’s simple really,” huffed Clint, watching as Coulson raised his arms in front of his face in a standard block.

                “Then talk to me,” insisted Coulson, neither backing down no flinching.

                Clint didn’t bother to try and find the words he’s need to explain, instead opting to take a swing at his hander. To his surprise, the older man dodged easily, but didn’t bother to swing back. “Was it the part where Stark told you to stay put while he took care of the civilians on the bridge?” He dodged the next punch just as easily, as if Clint were a civilian at a gym and not a trained superhero.

                “I’m used to Stark’s heroic bullshit,” dismissed Clint, throwing another punch towards the man.

                “How about when Thor didn’t listen to you and went to Cap’s aid instead of Widow’s?” suggested Coulson as he again sidestepped Clint’s attempt to strike. Clint tried to punch his hander again, hander this time, his anger beginning to boil once more as Coulson pressed his buttons. “Well…” then suddenly, Coulson finally took a swing at Clint, sending him staggering backwards as he dodged it. “Was it when Cap told you to stand down and stay in position while Stark went to Romanoff’s a…” he was cut off as Clint finally landed a hit, his fist colliding with Coulson’s stomach. The man doubled over almost immediately, wheezing a bit from the hit.

                “Stark wouldn’t have had to help Tasha if Thor had listened to me,” growled Clint, his frustration lacing his voice. “Cap wasn’t swarmed, he didn’t need Thor’s help”

                “Cap requested his help,” reminded Coulson, taking a deep breath.

                “I was capable of helping Cap!” shouted Clint, finally snapping as his frustration boiled over. “But there were too many on Tasha’s ass for me to help her without using an exploding arrow and I couldn’t make the shot without hurting her too! They were too close to her for it to be safe!”

                “Why…” Coulson huffed as he tried to stand up straight. “Why didn’t you communicate this to your team?”

                “Because they don’t listen,” growled Clint, turning on the fallen punching bag and kicking it, hard. “They never listen. It’s like Tasha and I don’t matter to the world or our own team because we’re not super human or geniuses. We’re just expected to go out and do our best, but we can’t when we’re constantly being told to ‘hold back’ or ‘stand down’”

                “That’s not the case Barton…” started Coulson, but Clint was too mad to listen. He cut his handler off without a second thought.

                “Yes it is!” snapped Clint, turning back to Coulson. “It’s the same for Sam, but he’s at least got Cap on his side trusting him! I jump off a roof to save someone or myself, and I’m a fragile idiot who couldn’t possibly thought about my options before taking the dive. I’m a regular human so obviously I haven’t done it thousands of times before on SHIELD missions. Tasha goes head on into a fight alone, and she’s scolded for not having someone to watch her back, even though she has done the same thing, and worse, countless times. All that matters to these ass holes is that we’re human and shouldn’t be as ‘heroic’ as the others!”

                Coulson stepped back a little in shock, watching as Clint’s whole body shook in anger. “And after all of that, one they’re done scolding us and we feel terrible about trying to do good. Once that’s all done, nothing changes. No one decides to stick close to Tasha if the latest enemy decides to try and swarm her, again! No one tries to work with me so I don’t have to take another dive off of a building. Once we’re scolded, no one gives a shit about us anymore and that attitude leads to shit like Thor going to help Cap in battle because they’re ‘Warrior bro’s’ or some shit. This attitude they have about us lands Tasha in the hospital with multiple fractures and a major concussion and who knows what else after she had sufficiently kicked multiple people’s ass’ with minimal help from me.”

                “Agent Romanoff’s injuries are not your fault,” reminded Coulson calmly, straightening a little more.

                “No, they’re Thor’s,” stated Clint simply. “Here injuries are on Thor and Cap’s heads, for not listening to me and sending her back up!”

                “Did you tell any of your previous handlers about these issues? Or the Captain?” suggested Coulson, his hands tucking into the pockets on his slacks.

                “They didn’t and don’t care,” huffed Clint in frustration. “No one cares.”

                “I doubt that is true,” Corrected Coulson, closing the distance between himself and Clint slowly. One of his hands left his pocket, raising up to cup the blonde’s face and clear away some of the stray tears that had shown up somewhere during Clint’s tirade. “We’ll have a meeting once Romanoff is out of Medical. This is a team, and you’re all going to work as one. You’re the eyes in the sky for a reason, and ignoring your input when none of them can see as far as you is unprofessional and reckless. Romanoff is on the team because of her skills as a spy and a fighter and she works best when she is allowed to follow her own, on the spot plans, as long as they don’t interfere with others. But in both cases, you both need back up and that call for back up, no matter who it comes from, should be listened to so no one ends up in medical.”

                Leaning into Coulson’s gun callused hands, Clint closed his eyes and tried to get his emotions back under control. “I just want us to be able to do our jobs. To do good. That’s what I joined SHIELD for when Fury showed up and offered the ex-carney mercenary a job.”

                “Trust me when I say, you are all doing good.” Coulson’s voice was soft as he spoke, keeping his hand against Clint’s cheek when the younger man didn’t pull away, and trying to ignore the pounding in his chest at the simple touch.

                Clint’s eyes opened slowly and Coulson’s breath hitched when brilliant kaleidoscope green eyes looked up at him. Before he knew what was happening, he had leaned in close and brushed his lips against Clint’s in a slow and careful kiss, noting that the younger man effectively melted into his arms at the gesture.

   


	5. Hopeless

  
                Sometimes, Clint found the people around him nearly intolerable. Not because they were super annoying (although that description did fit Tony perfectly most days), but because of how…in love they were.

                Take the two men in front of him for example: Steve and Sam were supposed to be doing the dishes following their ‘team bonding’ night. It was completely Steve’s idea, apparently he thought doing chores together would generate team bonding opportunities. Instead, Steve and Sam were making googly eyes at each other and sneaking kisses between plates and pans. Really, Clint didn’t know how he survived some days.

                “So, I hear Coulson gets back from his SHIELD mission today,” remarked Sam offhandedly as he passed a dish to Steve. If his hand lingered against the super soldier’s a little too long, well, no one commented.

                Clint felt his lips start to tingle as soon as Sam mentioned their hander; if he had to guess, he’s say that had been Sam’s intention. He could see the tell-tail signs of Sam’s pleased, devious smile even though the other man was facing the sink. Internally, Clint groaned. Why he told Sam or Natasha anything about his love life, he’d never understand. It would only end badly for him.

                “Cool. Maybe you guys can do your chores instead of making lovey faces at each other once he gets back,” remarked Clint dryly. Across the table, Sam turned his head to stick his tongue out at Clint. Clint’s response was to toss a piece of popcorn at the other man, a small cheer of triumph escaping the archer when said piece landed on his opponent’s tongue. For half a second, Sam seemed undecided in what to do. Eventually though, he decided to eat the kernel instead of spiting it out, biting down on it with a satisfied crunch.

                “Don’t act emotionless Clint, it doesn’t suit you” reprimanded Steve in his famous ‘I’m disappointed in you’ voice. And really, what did the mighty super soldier have to be disappointed about? Clint had been doing his job just find around Coulson ever since the kiss; it wasn’t like it meant anything.

                “He has only been gone a few weeks,” interjected Natasha in her ever so helpful way, glancing up at Clint over the cover of what looked like yet another new book. Clint couldn’t begin to keep track of how much she read when she had the time. They’d never had so much down time before they joined the avengers as they did now; it both annoyed and pleased him simultaneously, somehow “Besides, it has been two weeks since you idiots kissed”

                The way his cheeks began burning at Natasha’s blatant analysis of his situation most likely told the whole room exactly how he felt about what had happened. That kiss had been amazing; most days Clint could still feel the press of Coulson’s lips on his own like some ghost he couldn’t escape., But what had come after… he couldn’t even explain how amazing it had been. Natasha was right though, two weeks was a long time and he was pretty damn sure the encounter was a onetime thing.

                “I thought we agreed to stop talking about that,” muttered Clint, tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling in some vain attempt to avoid looking at anyone else. “It was a mistake. I’m sure he went on this mission to clear his head and get away from me. It’ll give us a chance to get back to that working relationship where he make’s silly, sarcastic jokes and I make witty, funny ones”

               

                “Clint, stop.” Demanded Sam, the towel he had been using to dry the dishes before suddenly falling over Clint’s eyes. When he removed the dish rag and glanced over at his friend, he found the Falcon leaning against the counter with his features set in a look of frustrated determination. “Just stop. We all know where your rant is going and we don’t need to hear it again. The incident after your break up with Jessica was bad enough,” Clint dropped his head back against the chair back, eyes focused on the ceiling to avoid meeting any of his friend’s eyes. They knew him too well, and the break up with Jessica had been…messy at best. There was no way he could risk the same thing happening with Coulson; he was the first good handler they had ever gotten and they really needed to keep him if the whole ‘team’ thing was going to work out.

                Wirth a sigh, he bit slightly at his lip, trying to think of something to say as the pressure of three sets of eyes settles on him. “I’m not good at this kind of thing, you guys know that”

                “We figured that out a while ago, yes,” Confirmed Steve, the disappointed tone still hovering in his voice. It was starting to kill Clint a little. What was he supposed to do, call Coulson and tell him how sorry he was that he thought he might finally have a chance at some semblance of happiness? He wanted to keep the amazing handler they had, but he didn’t know if he could even look the man in the face again after everything they had done together. After he had dressed as quickly as possible and practically bolted out of the room as soon as he realized his mistake.

                “You’re doing it internally now, stop it,” chided Natasha, her voice snapping him out of his thoughts. It was only years of working with the women that allowed him to snatch her book midair as it came within inches of his head. She was always the best at beating terrible thoughts out of him, but this time was different. He didn’t think any amount of physical punishment would drive his desire to have Coulson or his doubts from his head. “He’s going to come back, Clint. And when he does, you two need to talk. Don’t let it boil over until everything breaks down. That didn’t end well with Jessica and it won’t end well with Coulson”

                “There’s nothing to end well guys,” dismissed Clint, trying to make light of the whole situation. “We kissed, and did…other stuff,”

                “You had sex,” stated Sam with a soft smile and faint chuckle. “It’s not a dirty word, Clint.”

                “Anyways,” continued Clint, pointedly ignoring his friend. “That’s it. I walked out, he went on a two week mission. If anything, I’ve already pushed him away by panicking.” He tried to ignore the look Sam was giving him, he really did. His life was pathetic and for once he needed his friends to not look at him like he was fragile and easily broken. Even if it was true, it was annoying to see it etched across their faces so often. “Shouldn’t you two be doing dishes and stealing kisses like the sickeningly adorable couple you are, instead of trying to fix my life?”

                “We do that all the time,” dismissed Sam easily, waving his hand around a little. “We can take a break to help out our friend. Besides, you kind of have my towel”

“You threw it at me.” Reminded Clint, even as he slung the towel back to his friend.

“Stop lying Sam,” ordered Natasha lightly, rolling her eyes slightly. “It’s killing you on the inside to not be all over your giant hunk of blond meat.”

Clint opened his mouth to prod Sam on, fully intending to get a little payback for the earlier teasing, when the kitchen door suddenly slide open. Everyone looked over at the door simultaneously, expecting Tony or Bruce to come stumbling in muttering about caffeine, migraines, or a lab explosion. They were all exceptionally surprised when a bland, middle-aged man stepped into the room instead.

“Jeez Coulson!” exclaimed Sam, dropping his towel to the side and jumping over the table between them in order to get to the older man’s side before Natasha and Clint could even stand up in their seats. Their handler stood at the door in his normal black suit and neutral expression. But, unlike normal, he was very clearly leaning against the wall for support, large bags under his eyes speaking to sleepless nights. The fact that his hair was a complete mess he was attempting to smooth out even as he stepped into the room simply reinforced the idea. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Long mission,” dismissed Coulson with a wave of his hand, almost hitting Sam in the face with his gesture. “Very, very long mission.”

“You know you’re supposed to sleep on missions, right?” reminded Clint a little shakily, eyes roaming over the man nearly incessantly as he searched for any signs of injury beyond lack of sleep. Part of him desperately wanted to talk Coulson from Sam, and lead him to his bedroom so he could curl up around the older agent while he slept. However, the other, more cautious part of him wanted to run as far away as possible before he did anything stupid that would make Coulson really hate him.

“That’s rich, coming from the man who’s known for not sleeping on missions,” remarked Coulson. Natasha’s hand covering Clint’s mouth before he could protest. Honestly, it was probably for the best. Everyone at SHIELD knew he didn’t sleep on missions; he couldn’t. He couldn’t ramp down in hotels, he just didn’t feel safe. Even SHIELD safe houses had been a problem since he and Natasha were attacked in one following a mission in Dublin. “I just…I wanted something to eat before bed.”

“Can you even eat without falling asleep right now, Coulson?” asked Steve in concern. “You look ready to pass out where you’re…sort of standing.” The implication pissed Clint off almost immediately, all of the condescending conversations he’d had with the super soldier coming back in that moment. Steve didn’t know anything about other people’s limits. How could he when he had virtually none of his own?

Instead of starting an argument over it though, Clint actually did the smart thing for a change. He dislodged Natasha’s hand and stood, walking to the fridge and opening the door without a word. It only took him a moment to find a piece of a pie he’d made with Natasha that day; it was the piece that Sam had insisted they save for Coulson, much to Thor and Steve’s disappointment.

“Sam…” started Clint, though a glance at his friend said he didn’t need to finish that statement.

“I know, make lovey faces at Steve and be ridiculously adorable,” dismissed Sam with a dramatic sigh, as if he’d been given orders he didn’t want to follow, even though everyone knew he did. A groan of protest came from Natasha at Sam’s remark, and Clint couldn’t help but smirk as he bowed his head towards Sam, working his way to Coulson’s side and wrapping his free arm around the older man’s waist. “Try not to drop him down the stairs.”

“If I do I’ll make sure to call for backup,” assured Clint, using the pie in his hand to give Sam a goofy salute and laughing when his friend slapped his arm. “Come on old man, time for bed”

“Call me old man again and I’ll…” started Coulson, though the statement had absolutely no bite to it.

“Don’t even bother finishing that sentence,” advised Clint with a smirk. “I’m perfectly aware of everything you can and will think of doing.” Turning Coulson around carefully, Clint started to lead him towards the elevator, not wanting to risk stairs with a man who could barely support himself. It took a few minutes and a lot of maneuvering, (the pie almost became a casualty at one point when Coulson managed to fall out of his arms for a moment and collapse to the floor), but Clint ultimately managed to get Coulson into the elevator. Propping Coulson up for long enough that he could press the button for the 9th floor without the man falling down proved more challenging than getting in the elevator, but he ultimately managed all the same.

“Why’d you leave?” Coulson’s voice filled the elevator momentarily as soon as it began to move. His slightly slurred words sending a chill down Clint’s spine. It took a moment before Clint could face his handler after that, forcing himself to take a deep breath before he turned back to the other man. “What…did I do something wrong? How do I fix it?”

“Coulson” started Clint, only for Coulson to cut him off with a sloppily waved hand.

“Phil…my name is Phil,” insisted Coulson calmly, his brow furrowing slightly. “I told you that.”

Clint’s face softened at Phil’s reminder. Honestly, Clint wanted to work this out more than anything, to maybe have a shot to a happily ever after. But he wasn’t as smooth as Tony, kind as Sam, righteous as Steve, or as fun as Thor. He was an assassin who made a living off of killing people for years, and now he just barley scrapped by on a team of genius’, gods and super soldiers. How was he supposed to make things work with Phil when the man had so many better options just down the hall? Jessica already hated him, he didn’t think he could handle it if Phil gave him the same look of utter disgust and hurt that she did.

“Phil…this isn’t something you fix,” stated Clint at least, his voice even as he forced himself not to reach for Coulson. “I’m not a relationship kind of guy. I had fun, it was amazing, but…you deserve better.”

The older man scuffed at that, almost tipping over onto the floor with the simple reaction.

“That’s a first.” His voice was full of annoyance and hurt, his fingers tightening around the wall bar that was meant to help people keep their balance. It was actually a common occurrence for them to be ridiculously tired after a long fight, so the bars were reinforced to hold additional dead weight. At least it meant Clint didn’t have to worry about the bar becoming dislodged. “Usually it’s the other way around. Too good for me…”

“I don’t think I could find a soul on this earth who I’m too good for,” remarked Clint offhandedly, his mostly non-existent flipping off, “except maybe Tony.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Advised Phil, prompting a chuckle from Clint. Subtly, he watched as the older man’s knuckles started to go white from the grip he had on the bar. “I thought we were going somewhere…that maybe…” Phil went quiet all of a sudden, looking down at the ground and away from Clint.

“Maybe what?” asked Clint, his voice turning a touch bitter as the realization of everything he’d probably do wrong began to settle in. “maybe I wouldn’t screw this up royally and make you hate my guts? Maybe I would actually be able to impress someone as amazing as you while I’m surrounded by countless other people who are so much better than me…”

  
“You’re too hard on yourself,” stated Phil calmly, his voice evening out a little.

“My friends tell me that all the time,” remarked Clint with a dry laugh. The elevator let off a soft ding then, indicating they’d finally reached the 9th floor. Neither of them jumped to leave though, choosing instead to stand in a momentary silence while Jarvis help the door open for them. Finally, Clint spoke up again, his voice raw and Vulnerable. “I don’t know what to say, Phil. This is…I run. It’s what I’m good at, and you’re honestly better off if you find someone else. You don’t want me and my baggage”

“I think I have the right to choose what I do and do not want,” remarked Phil as he staggered away from the wall with a huff, stumbling toward the door. Clint caught him at the threshold of the hallway, just in time to stop him from falling face first into the carpet.

“I’d agree with you, but you look like you’re going to pass out,” countered Clint with a faint smile. A grumble of dissatisfaction from Phil brought a smile to his face. At least he knew that, no matter what, the man would be able to cheer him up somehow. “Come on, let’s get you to your room.” Wrapping his arms around Phil’s waist again, he helped his handler towards the man’s bedroom, smiling when Phil leaned his head against his shoulder and closed his eyes, allowing Clint to lead the way.

The bedroom door opened for them as they approached; there was never a more perfect time for Jarvis to be his awesomely effective self. Thankfully, the bed wasn’t too far from the door, and it didn’t take much effort for Clint to get Phil into it.

                “I’ll put the pie in your fridge,” promised Clint, turning around and letting his eyes wonder the room for the first time ever.

A variety of World War II artifacts and memorabilia lay scattered around the room, proudly displayed in cases or frames for all to see. The artifacts were decked out with little cards on the front that explained what was in the case, but that wasn’t what Clint found most interesting. Newspaper clippings surrounded the bedroom door, interspersed with printed internet articles, and they were all about the avengers. The missions they had done together, special excerpts about particular Avengers, and even interviews.

“You never got an interview,” remarked Phil from behind him. He smiled weakly, letting his eyes wonder over an article about Natasha. “Never talk about yourself.”

 

“A lot to not talk about” dismissed Clint as he made his way to the room’s small kitchenette, taking in all of the magnets from different parts of the world that littered the front of the fridge. A smile crept over his lips when he spotted a photo of Phil and Fury on the freezer door, being held up by a magnet from Paris. Opening the fridge, he almost laughed when he saw the entire thing was almost completely empty. It was such a normal thing, the empty fridge almost seemed out of place for the normal-but-not-normal man behind him. Tucking the pie away quickly, he headed back towards the bed. He almost laughed again when he realized Phil had yet to even shift the blankets in a vain attempt to get some rest. “Come on, blankets are not that hard to get over your body.”

“Don’t need blankets,” muttered Phil, wrapping his arms firmly around his pillow and hugging it close. He buried his face into it as Clint fought to get the blankets out from under him, grumbling faintly like a child might.

“Might keep you a bit warmer,” reasons Clint, cheering faintly when he finally managed to wrangle the blankets free. Placing them over the older man, he smiled softly and watched his handler fall asleep in front of him. Now, if only he had the courage to crawl in beside Phil and help him keep warm…

Straightening up as soon as he realized the thought had crossed his mind, Clint shoved his hands nervously into his pockets. No, he would not think those things about his hander; no point in focusing on what he shouldn’t want. That didn’t stop him from watching Phil for a moment longer, enjoying the calm look on in his face as he passed out in front of him.

“Sweet dreams,” whispered Clint at least, forcing himself to turn away and head for the door.

“Coffee…” muttered Phil suddenly, clearly not awake. Still, the idea the man might try to get up and make coffee was enough to give Clint pause.

“Not right now Phil,” spoke up Clint, hoping his voice would keep Phil from trying to get out of bed. “You need to sleep.”

  
No.” groaned Phil, turning to look up at Clint through half closed eyes “Coffee, tomorrow. Talk. Things, figure…”

“Alright,” chuckled Clint, enjoying the look on Phil’s face when he couldn’t manage to put two words together in a proper sentence. “Alright, coffee tomorrow. I’ll set my alarm and meet you here.”

“Promise?” murmured Phil, his voice already starting to slide towards sleep again.

“Ya…” muttered Clint, shrugging his shoulders in defeat. “May as well mess everything up as soon as possible for once.” Phil huffed at the comment, turning back in his bed and curling himself around his pillow as if he was some sort of cat. “Good night Phil.”

“The door slid open again as Clint approached, allowing him to escape as quickly as possible, wishing his heart would stop pounding in his chest. He was having coffee with Phil the next morning. It couldn’t end well, that was just how it was, but he’d still agreed to the date. What was he thinking?

His mind spent the rest of the night tormenting him with all the ways he could mess it up.


	6. pre-date

 

                “I like…the purple one,” Stated Sam, waving his hand towards what was essentially all of Clint’s wardrobe, in a way that indicated just how done he was with Clint and his monochromatic closet. “It’s coffee Clint, he’s really not going to care what you’re wearing.”

                Looking down at the soft purple shirt in his hand, the one he favored with the Hawkeye symbol on the right half of the chest, Clint groaned. “I know, I just…”

                “I thought you decided that you already fucked this up?” pointed out Sam, giving Clint a slightly frustrated look. Groaning, Clint contemplated throwing the shirt at his friend. He really didn’t need a rundown of his bad life choices from Sam, not when the man was more interested in fiddling with his phone than actually being helpful.

                “He wants to talk about it, so I guess we should, you know…” Clint ran his fingers through his hair and attempted to finish his sentence, “talk.” Sighing, he tossed the shirt aside and turned back to his closet in an attempt to choose  _something_  to wear. “If this isn’t going to happen, I should at least attempt to act like an adult about it so we can still work together.”

                Sam’s fingers stopped moving mid text as he glanced at Clint with a cocked eyebrow. “That’s very mature of you. Are you sick?” Almost immediately he threw his arms across his face to block the pillow that Clint tossed at him, laughing at Clint’s blushing face.

                “Would you stop texting and actually help me?” requested Clint as Sam turned his attention back to his phone. Reaching out he snatched the phone away with a huff. “You and Steve can flirt later.”

                “Clint, no!” exclaimed Sam, diving to try to retrieve the device. Clint was faster though, dodging away and tripping Sam before glancing at the screen. Immediately, he wished he hadn’t. The screech that escaped his lungs was probably loud enough to wake up the whole building. Without thought, he tossed the phone at Sam while mentally attempting to erase the image of Steve’s naked body from his mind.

                Chuckling, Sam retrieved the device with a satisfied Smirk, though his cheeks were as red as Clint’s. “This is why you don’t go into other people’s phones.”

                “I asked you here to help me out on a serious issue and you’re…you’re sexting with Steve!?” exclaimed Clint, rubbing his eyes as if the action would rub out the image now embedded on his retinas.

                “He  _is_  my boyfriend.” Reminded Sam, even as the man tucked his phone safely away.

                “Dude, Captain America should not be sending nudes,” insisted Clint, glaring at his friend. Sam rolled his eyes at that, clearly doing his best not to laugh too hard at Clint’s expense. “Jeez Sam, next time at least provide some nudes of yourself.”

                “Sorry Clint, only one man can handle all of this.” He waved a hand over himself as he spoke, rolling his shoulders a little. “Besides, you have ten minutes to get ready for coffee with Coulson and this does give you something else to talk about. Who knows, maybe you’ll get some nudes of your own.”

                Clint ignored the second remark, his mind locking onto the time. “Shit, is it that late already?” Frantically, he dove for his phone on the night stand, flipping on the display. “Shit!”

                “You’re worse than Tony when it comes to keeping time.” Teased Sam as Clint rapidly began scanning the room for the shirt he’d had earlier.

“I would take offence to that…” started Clint, pulling off his night shirt as he spotted his earlier choice and tossing it to the side. Snatching up the purple shirt again, he rapidly dragged it over his head, becoming momentarily stuck before he managed to pop his head through the neck. “But then I’d be late”

                “Yeah, we wouldn’t want that” laughed Sam, watching as Clint ran around the room, grabbing his phone, jacket, wallet and keys from the various places that he had tossed them the night before. “Go, woo the man, for all our sakes. I don’t want you back until you’ve had sex at least twice”

                “Only twice?” quipped Clint, heading for the door with a smirk.

“Fine, you got me,” called back Sam. “Making it four times!”      

                “And here I thought you would give me a challenge for once Wilson!” shouted Clint as he opened his front door.

                “So says the king of self-doubt!” counted Sam loudly as Clint pulled the door shut behind him and headed down the hall.

                As soon as the archer was gone, Sam pulled his phone out once more, flipping open his chat with Steve. “Now,” muttering to himself he took a moment to think before he typed in the next response. “ _I just had to unwillingly share that perfect view of you with Clint. I think I need another one just between us ;P”_


	7. Coffee

  Balancing two coffees, a sausage and egg sandwich and a bagel with cream cheese that he had been craving for the past week, Clint maneuvered his way towards the table Phil had selected for them. He’d offered to handle their order, latching onto an excuse to delay this conversation. As prepared as he was for the unavoidable conclusion (their agreement to not continue with a relationship) that would result, he didn’t exactly want to have this conversation either.

                “Try not to drop everything,” teased Phil, watching Clint with laughing eyes. “You were in that line for almost 20 minutes, it would be a shame if you had to repeat the experience.”

                An odd warmth spread through his belly when he heard the soft chuckle in Phil’s voice. It was one he hadn’t felt since he was married to Bobbie. Of course, he’d loved his time with Jessica and even loved her, but it was different from Bobbie and Phil in a way he couldn’t explain. There had been something more powerful with Bobbi, something he felt now, when he was face to face with Phil.

                “I’ll try not to,” Replied Clint dryly, attempting to dispel some of his anxiety. “Don’t want to make you go through coffee withdrawals.” He placed the coffees down on the table carefully and collapsed in the chair across from Phil, watching the older man swipe the sausage and egg sandwich from his hand abruptly and start to unwrap it.

                “It’s always appreciated when you don’t hold out on the coffee,” agreed Phil with a soft smile. Once the sandwich was unwrapped, he picked it up carefully and leaned forward to take a bite. As soon as he had, a look of bliss crossed his face, and he took a moment to enjoy the satisfying taste.

                “Well, at least we know that your blow job face is the same as your ‘I’ve just had the most amazing food ever’ face,” remarked Clint without thinking, eyes locked on Phil. Of course, he kicked himself mentally as soon as the words left his mouth. There was no question in his mind that he was bad with words, especially when interacting with people he had more than a passing attraction to. But this? This was a new low for him.

                Instead of getting angry however, Phil shot Clint a glance through his eye lashes, focusing the majority of his energy on his food instead of the smart ass across from him. “I’m confident that my ‘blow-job face’, as you put it, is much more…alluring. At least, I hope it is.”

                Well, at least Clint knew Phil was willing to roll with his crummy social skills. He reached forward and picked up his own coffee, taking a careful sip in an attempt to keep his foot out of his mouth. For a while, there was nothing but silence as the two men ate their breakfast and stole glances every once in a while.

                “So,” Phil leaned back in his chair slowly, his back straight and his faze focused on Clint, “at least one of us remembered what I said last night.”

                “Kind of hard not to between the grumbling and pouty looks,” countered Clint, his eyes falling to the table momentarily. His heart ached at the memory of the looks Phil had given him the night before. It was as if he had brought the man a puppy only to put it on the floor and shoot it multiple times in front of him. Honestly, he wasn’t sure he’d ever regretted anything more than causing Phil to pout like that.

                “I do not pout.” Protested the older man, doing a cheap imitation of his determined face.

                “Sorry to say this sir, but you do and it’s kind of adorable,” stated Clint, cursing the words as soon as he said them. There went his mouth again, saying things he should really be keeping to himself. He really needed to learn how to prevent things like that from happening, preferably before he said something that got him punched, or worse.

                “I’ll try not to be insulted by your assessment,” remarked Coulson dryly, one hand tapping on the table slightly. His other hand curled around his cup, lifting it so he could take a sip of his drink as he levelled his gaze intently on Clint. “But I digress; that’s not what we’re here about.”

                “I was really hoping to hold off this conversation a bit longer” admitted Clint with a sigh. He couldn’t help the way his leg began to jiggle just a little under the table, belying his nerves.

                “Even your sass can only hold off the inevitable so long, Clint,” reminded Phil with a pointed look. Clint just offered him a defeated shrug. Fully aware that Phil was right but still wanting to try anyways. Phil nodded a little, his gaze turning guarded. “You uh…you ran out pretty quickly after…”

                “Yeah, I know,” confirmed Clint quietly. Straightening himself up and leaning forward against the table. His fingered drummed against the top of his coffee cup absent mindedly, a nervous twitch to go with his leg. “I’m not really the best at, you know…”

                “No, I don’t know,” stated Phil, leveling a blank gaze at the archer. “that’s why we’re here.” He winced at the forceful tone in Phil’s voice, missing the sweet sound of his happy voice that he had gotten so use to over the course of their coffee…thing. “I remember enough of last night’s conversation to know that you said it was nothing I did”

                “Which is still true,” broke in Clint, blushing slightly when Phil shot him a disbelieving look.

                “But if it is true,” Continued Phil, his look softening somewhat. “What happened? I’m used to rejection, but not quiet that quickly. Most people at least stay the night.”

                “I could see why. You’re kind of an octopus cuddler,” teased Clint, a touch of a smile tugging at his lips as the memory of that night flashed through his mind. “It took a lot of maneuvering to get out of your grasp” Phil’s face burned in embarrassment, though he gave no other indication of discomfort. “Don’t worry, I thought it was cute.”

                “Yes you still left,” pointed out Phil, clearing his throat a little.

                “Looking down at his cup, Clint took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to sort out what he was going to say. “Look, I’m terrible at this. My divorce and one hell of a messy break up prove it…”

                “Agent Morse is adamant that your divorce has nothing to do with how terrible you are with people and everything to do with the yearlong mission that she had to fake her death for,” assured Phil, shooting Clint a sympathetic look. Okay, he wasn’t really wrong. The whole ‘mourning for your dead wife only to find out she’s not dead’ thing had really taken a toll on Clint. But he still loved Bobbie to death and completely understood why she did what she did. He just, couldn’t be married to someone who couldn’t keep him in the loop, no matter what the reason.

                “Anyways…” continued Clint and no matter how much he tried to, he couldn’t find the strength to look Phil in the eye. “I’m still…really terrible with people. Relationships, especially.”

                “So you’ve told me,” stated Phil with his dry, disbelieving tone.

                “I just…I don’t know how to explain it Phil.” Babbled Clint, his thoughts tumbling out of his mouth as he tried to find a way to make Phil understand what’s wrong with him. He brought his left hand up and pinched the bridge of his nose, giving up on figuring out what to say and deciding on winging it. “I freaked. I let myself get close, have fun and even…enjoy myself and then I freaked. You are the definition of perfect and I know that I don’t deserve that. That I don’t deserve you.”

                “Do I get a say in this at all?” asked Phil, his irritation giving way to hurt. The look of hurt that crossed Phil’s eyes reinforced the tone in his voice, though it was only there for a moment before returning to the blank stare he favored for hiding his thoughts.

                “I know what you want,” murmured Clint quietly, eyes dropping to his cup. “it’s what everyone wants. ‘Let’s take a chance, Clint. Let’s try to work this out and, if it doesn’t work out, we can still work together’. But, the last time I tried that I ended up hurting my…friend girl…”

                “Girlfriend?” suggested Phil.

                “Ya, that…” confirmed Clint, waving a hand dismissively in Phil’s direction. He still wasn’t comfortable with the word when it came to Jessica. “I hurt her bad. It’s unfair to her and she didn’t deserve it at all. I was an insensitive ass.”

                “Did you ever think about trying to change?” suggested Phil, tilting his head a little as his gaze moved over to Clint.

                “I’m 35 Phil,” pointed out Clint in resignation. “I think the change has been kicked out of me.”

                “You made one hell of a change when Director Fury convinced you to join SHIELD,” countered Phil calmly, showing just how determined he was to change Clint’s mind.

                “True, but I don’t know if I can manage another change like that,” admitted Clint, pressing his lips together. He still hadn’t looked up at Phil, so he was a little surprised when the older man laid a hand on his where it still sat on top of his coffee. In all honesty, he had seen it coming (He was called Hawkeye for a reason after all), but the gesture still surprised him somehow.

                “Listen, I can’t tell you that we’re going to be perfect,” began Phil and that truth actually managed to hurt Clint more than he thought it would. “I can’t even tell you that we’ll be decent. Contrary to SHIELD rumors, I am neither Psychic nor telepathic.”

                “That would have actually been really cool if you were.” Remarked Clint, smiling a little and, for the first time since starting their conversation, they both chuckled. Their eyes met across the table, smiles tugging across their faces.

                “I don’t know what the future holds, Clint,” admitted Phil with a faint shrug. “I don’t know if it includes you sharing a bed with me, or us fucking other people in a few months-“

                “Crude much?” asked Clint, throwing Phil’s words back at him in a teasing method.

                Phil just shook his head and leaned back a little, continuing as if Clint hadn’t interrupted him. “But either way, no matter how it goes or how it ends, I do know that it’s worth a shot.” Shifting a little, he gave Clint a hopeful look. “I want to give this a shot Clint. I’ve been waiting months, thinking of the perfect way to ask you out, and I ruined it with that kiss. But I’m hoping…praying, that I can still convince you to give me a shot. Give us a shot.

                Biting his lower lip, Clint looked back down at his coffee and carefully considered his answer. Was it worth the risk? Phil clearly thought so, but so had Jessica and look how that had turned out. Still, what he felt for Phil was more like what he felt for Bobbi. Maybe… “And if I…”

                “If, somehow, you manage to screw us up in some grand way, I’ll walk away.” Stated Phil, not bothering to sugar coat the matter.

                “The team needs you,” reminded Clint, the thought he might screw the others over with this endeavor twisting his stomach.

                “If that time comes, we’ll figure something out,” promised Phil in that soft, reassuring voice of his. The one that said everything would be okay. “We’ll find a way to work together, because the team also needs you. I’m not sure Romanoff would be able to refrain from murdering someone for long if you left the team.”

                “She might cling to Sam for a while,” suggested Clint, a little overwhelmed by Phil’s insistence that they could work this out. The weight of the man’s hand on his own was comforting in a way he didn’t want to consider. “They’ve gotten pretty close. And Rhodey. She’s close to him now.”

                “Regardless, let’s not test that theory,” insisted Phil, squeezing Clint’s hand tenderly. His smile grew warmer as he spoke, his eyes never leaving Clint. “What do I have to say to convince you Clint? I’m sure I can muster up the energy to beg if I have to.”

“Please, oh god…” Clint chuckled, shaking his head firmly. “Please, no begging. I don’t want you to ruin your pants on these messy floors.”

                “Then give us a chance.” Insisted Phil, running his thumb down the top of Clint’s hand. “Let me take you out, on a proper date. I’ll pay, we’ll both actually dress up…”

                “You’re dressed up every day.” Pointed out Clint, his resolve wavering.

                “In something other than my suit,” promised Phil, his smile brightening a little. “Just…let me try to wine and dine you. Convince you that this is worth it.

                “Alright,” sighed Clint, finally giving in. He knew it couldn’t end in anything but disaster; he knew this was placing his team at risk. But he wanted to give Phil what he wanted. He wanted Phil to be happy, and if this would make Phil happy, he’d do it. “Alright, I’m throwing in the towel.” He waved his free hand around as if he was actually tossing a towel behind him in defeat. “Let’s do dinner. Let’s see if, we can both make this work. It would be nice to wake up beside someone again, I’m not going to lie.”

                Seeing an even bigger smile break out across Phil’s face, he laughed. He didn’t even bother to react when Phil lunged forward and pressed their lips together in a heated kiss, effectively cutting off the gasp that was about to leave Clint’s mouth.

                “Thank you.” Whispered Phil, lips a hairs breath from Clint’s. He pulled away slowly, letting his lips linger near the edges of Clint’s mouth. His eyes closed when Clint leaned forward just enough to kiss him again, the hand on top of Clint’s pressing closer.

                “No. thank you,” murmured Clint, panting slightly when their lips parted once more “I’m…really hoping I can help make this work for once.”

                “That makes two of us.” Stated Phil softly. “Trust me when I say, you’re stuck with a dork who’s terrible at dating.”

“Good.” Clint chuckled “I hate perfect dates.” Their laughter filled the coffee shop, turning a few heads towards them for a moment as they kissed once more.


	8. Sex

 

If Clint didn’t trip over the Phil’s shoes, he would have definitely tripped over the growing pile of cloths on the floor if Phil hadn’t wrapped an arm around his waist to support him from behind. A playful smile pulled at his lips as he shoved his pants down to his ankles and kicking them into the pile.  “You just can’t let go can you?”

                “If I could stop touching you, I wouldn’t be getting into bed with your naked ass,” countered Phil as he kissed Clint’s collar bone, enjoying the vibrations against his lips when Clint laughed at his comment.

                “Well, I’m glad to hear that someone likes my naked ass,” teased Clint even at Phil nipped his neck and began shuffling him towards the bed.

Clint managed to maneuver so he was facing Phil mid-way, distracting him with a as he undid Phil’s belt. Before the other man knew what was happening, his pants and boxers were around his ankles and Clint was attempting to help him step out of them while his neck with his lips.

“Someone’s eager,” remarked Phil, a touch breathless in the face of Clint’s assault on his body.

                “To see your hot body naked again? Always sir,” confirmed Clint, smirking against Phil’s throat.

A shiver ran down his spine at Clint’s use of his position, his fingers running through the short hair on the back of Clint’s head before coming to rest on the back of his neck.

                “Glad you like it,” murmured Phil, squeezing the nape of his neck lighting to test a theory and smiling in triumph when Clint practically fell to his knees in response. “Well, this is new”

                The blond looked up at him through his lashes, his lips slightly parted and his hands resting at his sides as if he was waiting for orders. This was definitely a new playing field for Phil and he was loving the idea.      

                “What do you want babe?” asked Phil, voice smooth as he spoke. His fingers slipped through Clint’s hair as he waited for a response, causing the archer to lean back into his grasp.

                “Want you sir,” murmured Clint, staring up at Phil with a half-lidded, lustful gaze. His words were slow and carefully planned, deliberate in a way he didn’t usually use. “Preferably fucking me as hard as you can into your mattress.”

Phil squeezed the back of his neck again softly, smirking down at the other man. “Glad to hear it.” Glancing over at his bed, he estimated the piece of furniture was about two feet away. They could easily reach it of course, but Clint on his knees like this did make a tempting sight. “But you’re already down there Clint, and those lips do look very pretty.” The blond took a deep breath, gulping slightly as he waited to hear what Phil had to say. “Why don’t you put them to go use first and suck me off? Show me what your ‘blow job face’ looks like.” He couldn’t help but chuckle when Clint rolled his eyes, the gesture adorable despite the archer’s clear annoyance. His chuckle turned to a moan half a second later though, when Clint suddenly leaned forward and wrap his lips around his cock, his tongue flicking against the slit at the tip.

                Sliding his hand back into Clint’s hair, Phil gently gripped the blond strands and closed his eyes as Clint started to suck at the tip of his cock. The gesture was slow and tentative, testing the waters before he took Phil further into his mouth and starting to bob his head.

“Good boy,” whispered Phil, tugging on Clint’s hair lightly as he watched himself disappearing into the younger man’s mouth. Biting down on his lip, he groaned as Clint started to suck a bit harder, and he let him continue for a while longer before he found himself pulling Clint off of himself. “That’s enough, I don’t want to get off right now; I can’t fuck you into the bed like I promised if I do.” Clint whimpered slightly at his words, drawing a smirk across Phil’s lips. “Now, get up. I want to see you on your hands and knees on the bed.”

                Clint shot to his feet in a blur, stumbling over himself a bit and making Phil laugh as he rushed towards the bed. A smile pulled across his face as the blond rushed to crawl onto the bed, bracing himself on elbows and knees, giving Phil the perfect view of his ass. Nodding in approval, Phil approached the bed and ran a hand over Clint’s backside, his voice softening. “Yeah, just like that.”

                Stepping momentarily away from Clint and opening the top drawer of his nightstand, he picked up a tube of lube from the bottom left corner and a condom from right beside it without taking his eyes off the archer. It was moments like this that made him glad he kept his nightstand as organized as he did. The  _thought_  of digging franticly for his supplies was annoying enough as it was, he didn’t want to actually end up having to do it. It would require him to look away from his partner, for one thing. Plus, it was just bad form.

                A whimper from Clint pulled him from his thoughts. He found the man looking up at him, watching him carefully. He was panting slightly, starting at Phil with wanting eyes. More than likely, he’d seen Phil pull the lube and condom from the drawer, even though they weren’t in his direct line of sight.  “be patient” he said in a soft, soothing voice, walking back over and reaching forward to brush his fingers against Clint’s cheek “I keep my promised, don’t worry about that baby boy” he could feel the shiver that ran through Clint’s entire body at his last two words. “You like that? Being called baby boy?” Clint nodded franticly, determined not to speak until Phil asked him to so that he could just focus on the older man’s voice. “Good. I’m glad we’re learning new things” he cradled Clint’s chin for a moment, letting his eyes roam over his naked body and mentally cataloguing all of the scares on Clint’s back from his time in the circus and SHIELD.

                Walking around the bed after a moment he tossed the condom down beside Clint and popped the lube open. Tipping the bottle upside down he squeezed some of the cold liquid onto his fingers. Slowly, he began to spread it around, attempting to cover as many fingers as possible and warm the lube up before he even tried to make contact with Clint. There was no better buzz kill than Cold liquid on one’s more sensitive areas.

                “I know you’re waiting for me to give you permission to talk, but I think I’m going to hold off on that” a wimper escaped Clint’s lungs as Phil spoke, wondering what was going on in the older man’s devilish mind “you’re always so talkative and snarky, I think it would be good to have a little break” once the lube was sufficiently covering his fingers and a little warmer, Phil reached down and ran his index finger down Clint’s crack, using his clean hand to palm Clint’s ass for a second while the younger man bucked at the sudden touch.

                A wicked grin crossed his face, and he watched carefully as Clint waited for the next move, letting his finger slide down his crack once more, he pressed it against Clint’s entrance slowly and carefully. Almost as soon as he did, the younger man face planted against the bed and twisted his fingers into the sheets, arching his back just enough to present Phil with an even better view of his ass.

                “So needy baby boy” he muttered, easing his finger in slowly and pulling out when Clint started to squirm “it’s almost like you don’t get fucked enough” of course, he knew Clint didn’t. The man may have been known as an easy lay around SHIELD, but anyone who actually knew him was aware that that wasn’t at all the case.  Clint Barton only slept with people he was comfortable with because sleeping with just anyone was a danger he wasn’t willing to take after everything he had been through. Of course, the last few people that happened to be were Agent Morse and Jessica Draw, and neither of them seemed to Phil the types to try a strap on and fuck Clint in a way they couldn’t otherwise do.

                Once he had gotten his finger all the way inside of Clint he smiled in triumph, letting clint adjust to the intrusion for a moment before he began pumping it in and out of the younger man’s hole. And the view he got in return, watching as Clint squirmed against the bed, was worth it. Once he had been at it for a while, and most likely when Clint had started to whine, he started to ease in a second finger. It only took a little bit of coaxing to situate it in beside his first finger, and he quickly started to scissor Clint open slowly while the blond pulled at the sheets under himself. “Don’t wreck my bed” he ordered in a stern tone “your dog already tried that once” this time Clint grunted, looking back at Phil with a glare at the mention of something that was distinctly not sexy, at all. “Then don’t wreck my bed” he started to scissor his fingers again, causing Clint to drop his head back to the bed with a groan.

                After what felt like a few hours Phil pulled three fingers out of Clint carefully, enjoying the sound of protest that the younger man made when he did so and reaching do to pick up the condom that he had dropped on the bed earlier. “Patience baby boy. I can’t fuck you if I keep my fingers inside of your pretty hole” for what it was worth, Clint had kept his mouth shut most of the time, saving his energy for gasps, moans, groans and grunts when Phil hit his sweet spot. There had only been one instance of Snark, and it had ended with Phil’s hand on the back of Clint’s neck as the blond begged him to put his fingers back in, or anything else. Leaving him waiting was an effective punishment that Phil was never going to forget.

                Ripping open the side of the condom wrapper, Phil fished out the small piece of plastic and pulled the tip out carefully so that he could see where the condom rolled out. Putting it against the tip of his cock he smirked when Clint looked back and watched him roll it onto his cock carefully, licking his lips and looking up at Phil with impatience as he took his time to make sure the condom was on right.

                “Alright, enough fucking around” he promised, taking hold of himself and using his free hand to palm Clint’s ass again while the other man whimpered. Pressing against Clint’s hole he shivered as he started to slide in slowly, pulling back every inch and pushing in a little further while Clint gasped and groaned under him.

                Once he had bottomed out Phil leaned over and pressed his chest against the younger man’s back, kissing the soft skin of Clint’s neck and giving him a moment to adjust.

“Sir…” Clint’s voice was a little raspier than usual, and the sound of it sent jolts of pleasure down Phil’s whole body into his groin.

“Can I do something for you baby boy?” he asked between kissed, enjoying the idea of Clint begging to be properly fucked.

“Move…” well, that wasn’t exactly what he wanted “please Sir”

“I’m not sure Baby boy, I think you can ask a bit nicer than that” he placed his hands on either side of Clint’s torso and waited for a different response from Clint.

“Please sir…” The blond stopped for a moment, thinking about what he was going to say to get the reaction he was hoping for this time “Please, fuck me into this bed like you promised sir”

“that’s better” Phil pulled out slowly, enjoying the feeling of Clint’s muscles tensing around his cock and waiting until only the tip was still inside of the younger man before he plunged back into him and reached a hand forward to cover Clint’s mouth when he screamed.

                Twisting his fingers into the bed sheet he started to pull out again, thrusting back in a bit sooner and smirking when Clint whimpered in pleasure behind his hand as he started up a slow pace. Underneath him Clint closed his eyes and moaned as Phil kept a firm hand over his mouth. His whole body was electrified a little more with each thrust.

“Good boy” Phil’s breathe tickled the back of his neck as he spoke, sending shivers down his spine and making him melt into the bed a little more “So good at taking orders Clint. Wish you were this easy in the field” He whimpered softly, trying to push back visions of missions with his team as Phil increased the pace. Usually he could hold off a lot longer on his release, but with every drive forward Phil made back into him he felt himself getting closer to Cumming into Phil’s bed sheets. Obviously something tipped the older man off about that too, because before Clint could protest he had taken his hand off of his mouth and reached down to wrap it around his cock.

 “Fuck…” he breathed when Phil started to plunge into him even harder, forcing his body forward and running his hand down Clint’s cock as he did. Feeling the tight tug on his cock and the hard thrust of Phil fucking him, Clint Groaned as he screwed his eyes shut and groaned into the air as he spilled over Phil’s hand and the bed sheets below him, his muscles tightening around Phil as he did.

“Shit, Clint…” the older man gasped behind him, continuing to slam into him over and over again as his entire body tensed. Feeling Phil’s other hand leaving his side, Clint gasped when it grabbed hold of his waist in a bruising grip and pulled him back once as Phil bottomed out inside of him and stilled for a moment, Cumming inside of his condom as his fingers left marks in Clint’s skin.

Feeling Phil melting against his back slowly Clint smiled as he let himself collapse against the bed, ignoring the sticky wetness that he fell into and focusing instead on the soft breath that tickled the back of his neck.

“So…” Phil brought a hand up and played with the edges of his hair “Baby boy”

“Call me that outside the bedroom and I will punch you” He warned half-heartedly, fully aware of the fact that he could never actually punch Phil again without wanting to kiss him better.

“Aww, but you always get to call me sir”

“If you get a hard on mid mission when I call you sir, that is not my fault” the both chuckled at the mental image of Phil in the middle of a group of agents getting a hard outline in his pants after a snarky comment from Clint that was ended with ‘sir. Pushing the older man over playfully Clint smiled over at him when he pulled out carefully and rolled onto his back beside him.

“Thank you” Phil smiled, putting an arm out and waiting until Clint curled up into his side before wrapping it around the younger man’s shoulder.

“For what? You’re the one who kept his promise and fucked me into the bed”

“For giving us a chance” Phil chuckled “letting me prove I could do such a thing”

“I should be thanking you” Clint mumbled, turning around and burying his face in Phil’s shoulder “for convincing my stupid ass to do it”

“Well, I for one thing your ass is hot, not stupid” Protested Phil “and either way, I’m thankful” he turned his head towards Clint and kissed his forehead softly, causing the younger man to smile.

“Then we can both be thankful” he said simply “For having a go at this, and being fantastic in bed” they both laughed at Clint’s comment, holding each other close while Phil pulled his condom off and tossed it into the garbage can that he kept near the bed. Grabbing the blanket with his feet from the edge of the bed, Phil pulled it up carefully grabbed it with his hand as soon as he could. As soon as he maneuvered the blanket over the both of them he chuckled when he noticed that Clint had already fallen asleep on top of him, deciding to clean up the bed whenever they decided to wake up and pulling Clint close as he drifted off to sleep himself.


	9. War

The sound of his Phone buzzing pulled Sam’s attention away from running his fingers through Steve’s hair, and oh boy did the blond have problems with that if the grunt he let out said anything. “just, one moment,” Chuckled Sam, picking his phone up off of the arm of the couch and flipping the screen on. “It’s just Clint.”

“Just tell him to have his mental crisis later and we’ll meet him in the kitchen for it.” Dismissed the blond, cuddling up close while Sam flipped the conversation open.

The next thing Steve knew, he was on his ass looking up at his boyfriend from the floor as the other man tossed his phone clear across the room and rubbed franticly at his eyes. “Fucking hell Clint!” he screamed into the air, as if that would cause the archer to come stumbling to their door with apologize.

“Sam?” Steve raised an eye brow, watching as Sam rubbed his eyes. Pushing himself off of the floor he made his way over to the other side of the room, looking down at the Phone where it had dropped down onto the soft carpet after crashing into the wall. “Huh,” chuckled Steve, ignoring the various new cracks in Sam’s phone “Coulson has a lot of gunshot wounds.

“Really Steve!? That’s what you got out of that?” the blond chuckled again, looking over at his boyfriend with a smile.

“Come on,” he walked over and hooked an arm around Sam’s “let’s see what we can do about Coulson’s naked body”

“This means war” grumbled Sam, following Steve easily as the blond pulled him towards their bedroom.


End file.
